The third day out on the crawlers was little different from the second, except that Charlie seemed troubled as they rode around and around the track, each pass carving a little deeper into the surface of the moon. It was clear that Charlie was fretting about the time that was slipping by, with no hope in sight for a return to his cavern and the translator.
Bandicut, bouncing in his jump seat under the baleful eye of Neptune, was too preoccupied with his own boredom to be of much help. He liked his coworkers but loathed the repetitiveness of the job; it was so deadening that he found it hard to muster concern for Charlie’s problem, even though it theoretically concerned him deeply: it was only the safety of the entire Earth. It was just too theoretical. But his boredom was real and palpable.
/// We might have to steal a rover
to go back, ///
Charlie murmured, sounding as though he were talking more to himself than to his host.
/Fat chance of that,/ Bandicut muttered, fishtailing the drones around a tight, inner corner.
/// You’ve got to help me get out there. ///
/Let’s talk about it later, okay?/ The truth was, even if his heart had been in it at the moment, Bandicut could have offered only limited reassurance, since there was no way of knowing how long his superiors would take to write off the accident and send him back out on survey duty.
/// Yeah . . . later . . . ///
the quarx whispered, stirring listlessly.
/Hey, you okay there?/ Bandicut asked, squinting back at the churning drones as the course straightened out.